


Just A Taste

by fickleminder



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Prophecy (Final Fantasy XV), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 23:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickleminder/pseuds/fickleminder
Summary: Prompto doesn’t consider himself a foodie. He’s the type who eats to live, not so much the other way around. A man of simple tastes. That being said, he can appreciate good food. It’s something his soulmate seems to have all the time.(Soulmate AU based onthis post.)





	Just A Taste

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t actually played FFXV so please pardon any inaccuracies.

_For Shiva’s sake, wipe your godsdamned lips already!_

The dessert his soulmate is currently enjoying seems to be a tart or pie of some sort. It’s sweet, it’s flaky, and it’s driving Prompto absolutely _nuts_.

How hard can it be to practice basic hygiene and just wipe. Their. Lips? Astrals, the feeling of crumbs littered everywhere makes him want to scratch his mouth off.

Later that night, Mr Argentum brings home an apple pie to share after dinner. Prompto takes a moment to excuse himself, retreat to his room, and scream into a pillow.

* * *

Prompto doesn’t consider himself a foodie. He’s the type who eats to live, not so much the other way around. A man of simple tastes. That being said, he can appreciate good food. It’s something his soulmate seems to have all the time.

Maybe they’re an aspiring chef or have friends and family in the culinary industry. Or they live in a nice area with plenty of fancy eateries. Prompto doesn’t recognize many of the flavors he gets to enjoy secondhandedly, so perhaps they travel to exotic places a lot.

He’s kind of low-key jealous. Prompto finds himself licking his lips often, wondering just what the hell are they eating _oh em gee it’s so GOOD_. It makes his own meals seem bland in comparison, but hey, he tries okay? It’s not easy living by himself without parents to teach him how to cook properly. They’re off on business trips all year round, though they make it a point to come home every few months. It gets lonely at times, but he’s used to it.

Still, whoever his soulmate is, Prompto hopes they’re being well taken care of.

* * *

All that’s left of the garula sandwich are crumbs and greasy paper, but Prompto feels as though he can easily go for two more. It takes a moment for him to realize that the hunger – the craving – is coming from his soulmate.

His mind wanders to that dessert they seem to enjoy every now and then. Bad crumb habits aside, it’s really, really good and he occasionally craves it himself. Whenever that happens, he’ll usually taste it on his lips no more than a day later and he likes to believe it’s his soulmate indulging him. Naturally, it’s only fair that Prompto returns the favor when he can.

Unfortunately for today, his lunch period has ended and the next class is about to start. Prompto pulls out his phone as he leaves the cafeteria and adds “Garula Meat” to a list in his notes, along with a reminder to Moogle recipes with said ingredient.

It’s a personal project of his to learn his soulmate’s tastes, and he looks forward to the day he can cook something they enjoy together if – no, when they finally meet.

* * *

Prompto’s fork pauses on its way to his mouth.

_What the… Is that lip gloss?_

It’s hard to tell, especially since lip gloss comes in all sorts of bizarre flavors that he doesn’t know what’s normal anymore, but he thinks he’s gotten it right. His soulmate must have really gone all out for him to taste it so strongly, and if he concentrates hard enough he can also make out the minty aftertaste of mouthwash.

Either way, it’s clashing with his salad and ruining his dinner. Prompto wishes he were chowing down on some burgers and fries right about now, but rules are rules and if he wants to maintain his figure, he needs to be disciplined and stick to his diet, painfully self-enforced since middle school.

As he drizzles more dressing over the carrots and beets, and unbidden thought strikes him.

_Are they going on a DATE?_

Suddenly it’s all his brain can think about. They can’t be slathering on lip gloss for the sake of it because no one can possibly like the taste that much, flavored or not. Rather, it makes more sense that they’re getting ready for a night out, meeting friends or looking for someone more, maybe hoping to get a kiss –

Prompto freezes. His heartbeat ramps up with anxiety as he tries to recall every single instance he’s tasted lip gloss from his soulmate, mentally cataloguing dates and times and frequencies and – and –

He drops his fork and pushes the bowl of salad away, appetite gone.

* * *

“Argentum, mark your calendar! You’re going to Cleigne next spring!”

“Hold up, really? You want me to tag along?”

There’s no way this is real. Interns and part-timers don’t get to go on work trips like these. Prompto doesn’t need the job at the local photography studio; his parents cover the rent and utilities and leave him with more than enough to eat out every day, but he wants the experience and it feels good to be earning a portion of his own allowance. Plus he’s doing what he loves, so win-win.

“Boss lady thinks the exposure will be good for you. So, you in or what?”

“Hell yeah!”

* * *

LIKES

  * Meats
  * Fish (sushi or fillets)
  * Oyakodon (Moogle recipes!)
  * Kenny’s fries and other junk food
  * ~~Fucking~~ tarts/pies



* * *

His parents have never missed his birthday before.

“We’re sorry sweetheart, you know we would be there if we could.”

“It’s fine, I understand.” Prompto tries his best to sound nonchalant, but the white-knuckled grip on his phone says otherwise. “Besides, I’m a big boy. I can handle myself for one day.”

This is normal, he tells himself. Their plans change all the time. So what if their stay in Accordo got extended by an extra month? It’s out of their control, and it’s no one’s fault but the shitty planning team in charge of their schedules.

“Prompto?”

“Really, don’t worry about it. S’no big deal.” He doesn’t quite manage to mask the crack in his voice this time. A part of him curses himself for being so pathetic.

There’s a long pause, and then his mother speaks again. “Actually, how would you like to visit us instead?”

* * *

Best. Birthday. Ever.

There are chocobos _everywhere_. Prompto can die happy now; his parents bought him round trip tickets for half a week in Altissia, a room of his own at their hotel, and even express passes to the Moogle Chocobo Carnival, which just so happens to be ongoing during his stay. They must have felt really bad about not being able to come home for his birthday, but Prompto thinks this more than compensates for it.

He wakes up early to have breakfast with them before spending the rest of the day filling up his SD cards and exploring the carnival. In the evening, he joins his parents again for dinner and regales them with stories about the chocobo races ( _I came in last but who cares it was AWESOME_ ) and chocochick hunting ( _they’re too cute I can’t –_ ) and the photo competition ( _first place can you believe it?_ ) and then they take some much-needed quality bonding time to play at the game stalls as a family.

One of the key items on Prompto’s agenda is to have the famous Fat Chocobo Burger he’s only read every single review on. It’s carnival exclusive and all the forums unanimously agree that it’s a must try. He’s also eager to one up the mysterious burger his soulmate had shared with him about a year ago. It’s one of the best things he’s ever had the secondhand pleasure to enjoy, and he’s a little disappointed that they’ve only eaten it once.

He deliberately holds off and waits until it’s his actual birthday to join the snaking queue. It takes a good part of an hour before finally, _finally_ the esteemed burger is in his hands. Tall, slightly lopsided, layer upon layer of juicy goodness… It smells heavenly and Prompto’s mouth is watering like crazy.

“Happy birthday to me~” he sings, snapping a quick selfie or five before sinking his teeth into the stack of meats –

And choking so badly that a passerby almost calls a first aider over for help.

The rich sauces, the crisp lettuce, the melted cheese mix and freshly roasted hams… Prompto wants to cry because there’s no doubt about it: it’s the same fucking burger his soulmate has had. Sheer, utter betrayal has absolutely no right tasting this divine.

 _You spoiled my fat burger, asshole!_ He nearly wails, screaming internally.

Worst. Birthday. Ever.

* * *

The night before he’s due to sail back to Leide, Prompto is chilling on the armchair in his parents’ room, half scrolling through his photos, half watching his mother smother her mouth in a layer of lip gloss so thick that it’s practically dripping. She’s just showered and dressed in sleepwear, looking for all intents and purposes ready to crash, not check out the nightlife.

“You know you’re not supposed to eat it, right?” He says offhandedly, looking up from his camera.

“Your father’s drinking again. He knows I hate the taste of liquor.”

Prompto’s eyebrows go up. His dad had been summoned by his manager earlier to review some notes for an upcoming presentation. How alcohol got involved is a mystery only found in the corporate world.

Mrs Argentum pauses in front of the mirror and turns to him, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “What say we call room service and order some sushi? With extra wasabi on the side.”

It’s like a light bulb goes off in Prompto’s head. _Oh_ , he thinks dumbly. _Picky eater_.

Nodding absently, he grabs his phone and starts a new page of notes.

* * *

At the taste of bluefin tuna on his lips, Prompto goes still.

_No way…_

He remembers this hole in the wall, family-owned café in the Niff district that his parents once brought him to. It’s a little out of the way and not quite in his price range, but they had wanted to give him a treat for doing well in his finals and thought he would enjoy some delicacies from his native homeland. He had been adopted as a baby so he can’t say he misses it terribly, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same.

The café is well-known for its bluefin tuna fillet marinated in a special sauce passed down from generation to generation. No one has even come close to deciphering the secret recipe. The flavor is so unique that Prompto recognizes it in a heartbeat, and this can only mean one thing:

His soulmate is in town.

“Yo Argentum, what’s the hold up?”

His soulmate is in town, and Prompto is just about to _leave_.

A part of him immediately wants to bail, to seize this behemoth of an opportunity by the horns and drop everything to sprint towards that café and finally meet his other half. He’s waited over ten years for them, and they’re so close but –

But.

Another part knows it’s too late to turn back now. This trip is an opportunity in itself and bailing at this point is a pretty dick move. Fast as he is, there’s no way he can run to the café and back and still make it to Cleigne on schedule. Not to mention there’s no guarantee his soulmate will even be around by the time he gets there.

“Nothing, sorry dude.”

Prompto shuts the trunk with more force than necessary and climbs into the car, squeezing in the back with two other coworkers. Leaning against the door as they hit the road, he closes his eyes and feigns sleep, all while attempting to will the broken pieces of his heart together.

He wishes he had some lip gloss right about now.

* * *

Prompto tries to keep a lid on the sulking but it’s kind of obvious he’s in a sour mood. At least his work isn’t affected too badly; he still follows his boss’s instructions, still sets up the stage equipment properly, still takes print-worthy shots for his portfolio on the side. Nevertheless, he’s not his photo-maniac self and it shows.

“Eat this.”

A small plastic carton is shoved under his nose and Prompto jerks backwards, barely refraining from cracking his skull open on the caravan steps where he’s been sitting and moping for the past half hour.

“Ulwaat berries from that farm in Caem we passed by a while ago,” Aranea answers his unspoken question, shaking the carton impatiently until he takes it. “Hard to find outside of Tenebrae, but I’ve heard they’re good. Those vitamins should knock some cheer back into you.”

Prompto laughs weakly, touched by the kind gesture. “Thanks boss.”

“Anytime, shortcake.” She turns to leave. “Take five and then go help Ghiranze with the next setup.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Aranea’s right; the berries are so delicious that they disappear in under a minute and he ends up licking his fingers clean, chasing every last drop of their sweet juices. It’s a whole new level of comfort food and they’re just the pick-me-up he needs to get back on his game. Prompto has to admit he feels somewhat better already.

The sting of missing his soulmate isn’t completely gone, but now there’s a sense of hope that wasn’t previously there, hope that there’ll be more opportunities to come.

And when they do, Prompto swears he won’t let them go so easily next time.

* * *

_WILL IT KILL YOU TO WIPE YOUR FUCKING LIPS OH MY GODS_

* * *

DISLIKES

  * Salads and vegetables
  * My burnt stuff (sorry >_<)
  * BEANS



* * *

Two can play at that game.

Forget waiting for opportunities, Prompto’s going to engineer his own. His soulmate may have slipped past him once, but now he has a Plan. A petty, spite-fueled Plan to lure them back to him.

Inducing a craving is _hell_ on his budget. He doesn’t really get much Niflheim fare to begin with and he can’t crave what he doesn’t know, so he experiments with exotic recipes and eats out more often in the Niff district. There’s a chance his soulmate might think he lives in Niflheim or they end up being put off by Niff cuisine altogether, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take.

Three months and a huge dent in his savings later, his soulmate starts to crave a very distinctive tuna dish.

A week after that, Prompto finally tastes it again.

* * *

It’s a lazy Sunday with absolutely nothing on his schedule, thank the Astrals, and the café appears to be mostly empty when Prompto arrives.

He pauses as he takes in the only other patrons inside, a group of men at a circular booth in the corner. Two of them are sitting on chairs borrowed from other tables, leaving the third to occupy the entire section of cushioned seating. The arrangement is peculiar; there’s plenty of room for all three without needing extra seats.

The first guy is tall and sits with perfect textbook posture. He speaks with a slight accent, possibly Tenebraen, and his voice sends shivers down Prompto’s spine.

The second guy is more rugged and easily three times Prompto’s size. Prompto spots the tattoos curled over his exposed arms and swoons a little at those biceps.

The third guy… Prompto can’t quite get a bead on him. He’s almost completely hidden from sight, and despite trying to sneak a peek at him while ordering at the counter, all Prompto can see without looking overly suspicious are the broad backs of the other two and glimpses of messy dark hair.

Keeping an eye on them isn’t too difficult. Prompto slides into a nearby booth of his own and pretends to scroll through his phone, glancing up every now and then as though to check whether his food has arrived. Eavesdropping, he learns that the three men are sharing the same bluefin tuna fillet along with a generous spread of sides, meaning his soulmate could be any one of them. When the waitress finally delivers his Burly Bean Bowl, Prompto thanks her before inhaling deeply and readying his spoon.

_Moment of truth._

He chews slowly, deliberately, practically kissing each scoop as it slides past his lips and onto his tongue. He licks the spoon clean with every mouthful and doesn’t bother wiping the thick gravy smeared across his –

“Fucking Six!”

A choked cry, a strangled cough, and the scraping of wood across tile as the burliest of the three men reaches over to thump his companion on the back. His view no longer obstructed, Prompto can identify his other half as the one on the cushioned seats, scowling at the piece of fish speared on his fork.

The dark-haired male is quite handsome, if not somewhat familiar, Prompto thinks. He’s blanking out for some reason; there’s a nagging feeling at the back of his head as he watches his soulmate hiss and rage, something that’s shrieking _how can you not recognize him you DUMBASS it’s – it’s –_ It’s not until the remaining spectacled man chides “Highness!” that all the pieces click into place and Prompto nearly drops his spoon because holy shit that’s the _Crown Prince of Lucis what the f–_

He must have made some kind of dying noise because now said prince is staring at him too, wide eyes briefly darting down to his bowl with a barely suppressed look of polite disgust. Prompto instinctively ducks his head and averts his gaze, looking everywhere but at the most captivating pair of blue eyes he has ever seen, the two very intimidating Crownsguards sizing him up, the black bag on the floor with a brightly colored chocobo pin –

_Chocobos_

_The Altissia carnival_

_Spoiled fat burgers_

_All that grief with the lip gloss and mouthwash_

_Crumbs on his lips for WEEKS after those stupid berries_

And all rational thought immediately flies out the window.

 _Yolo_ , goes some hysterical part of Prompto’s brain, followed quickly by whatever’s left of his sanity remarking that he probably won’t be living for very long after this stunt.

Before the last of his frayed nerves can desert him, Prompto digs his spoon deep into the pile of beans, looks Noctis Lucis Caelum dead in the eye, and shoves the entire thing into his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Noct throws his fork at his traitor of a soulmate and warps over into a tackle-hug that Ignis and Gladio swear looks more like a reverse Heimlich maneuver.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
